Inconsolable
by By My Pen
Summary: The Christmas special ending broke my heart. This is the literary result of my heart breaking. "No one could say a thing to break through, she was sure of it. But then, one word did reach her. Such an important word." Spoilers, xmas special


**A/N: **So, just like I said on my other DA fic that I uploaded today, I just wanna say that I am a horrid person and I'm sorry for not uploading on my pre-existing fics. This is my peace offering. OOC for Mary, I think but I was sad a depressed after watching the christmas special and this was the result.

* * *

Inconsolable. A word not great enough to describe her pain but she knew of none better. It was true to a point – she didn't hear her parents, her sister, her maid when they spoke or even her baby when he cried for her. She barely slept, she didn't eat and only drank when forced to by a nurse that had been sent to watch over her. She did not leave her room and seldom her bed. Her health declined significantly. But she wasn't to be roused.

Deeper into the painful abyss she sank, making it worse for herself each day that it prolonged. There were no tears – they had never been an appropriate display of grief before and certainly not now. He was dead; she was grieving beyond belief. No display of tears could express what she felt. She saw it as an injustice to him if she could only cry her grief. Instead, she let herself be taken by it.

Everyone worried. Mary was fading so quickly before their eyes but nothing was to be done to convince her to eat or rest. It was more than that, though.

The baby.

He hadn't even a name yet. Since the doctor had taken him from her arms in light of the knowledge of her husband's death, the young mother had never once looked to her bairn.

They tried everyone and anyone to get through to her; the nurse that was called in upon her descension of health, her parents, her sister, the Dowager, Isobel, Rose, Dr Clarkson, Anna, Mrs Hughes, Mr Carson – even Daisy had a go. But none could shake her from her shroud of grief. They began to fear for the worst.

Then, one day – at breakfast – Tom asked if perhaps he should talk to her. The family looked around stupidly. There was a synonymous thought clear throughout, though no words were spoken: _why hadn't they tried this before?_

So, climbing up the stairs Tom went. Slowly and with a heavy tread – not reluctant, just uncertain. He hadn't see his sister-in-law since they brought her and her son home from the hospital.

Knocking softly on Mary's bedroom door, he was admitted by the nurse. He asked for some privacy and she left, endowing him with a sad smile.

Tom quietly approached the bedside, where there was a chair already placed. Mary didn't look up at him from where she lay, though she was plainly awake. She merely stared outside the window without seeing.

He began in soft tones, words that didn't touch her. No one could say a thing to break through, she was sure of it. But then, one word did reach her. Such an important word.

_"Sybil."_

And then his words flooded in; the dam had broken. She heard his truly empathetic and compassionate laments. She heard his consolatory words. She heard his curses to God, never mind from which religion.

And most importantly, she heard his words of her child.

"He needs his mother, Mary. He wails all day long and nothing can sate him. And...Mary...he has no name..."

These last words pierced her heart. Suddenly the haze was cleared some by a bright lantern that near blinded her. When her eyesight was returned, she saw her brother-in-law's face, streaked with tears and marred by sadness and worry.

He had found a way through.

But of course he did, Mary realised. No one but him could know; could _really_ know.

And then, quite simply, she cried.

Once she began to let them fall, she realised how much of a bittersweet release the tears were. She was dimly aware of clinging to Tom's lapels as he held her. But all she could really feel was the grief rolling off her face, pouring from her heart and out from her fingertips through her veins, wearying her bones. She could feel the blackness lift a little.

Mary didn't remember falling asleep but she awoke with a new state of mind.

Now was the time to grieve _with_ the world, instead of alone and away from it.

And with that thought in mind, she rose to her son's cries.

* * *

**A/N:** Oh yeah, as I mentioned on Tumblr when I posted it there, this is not a Mary/Tom shipping fic. I don't ship those two but I do think that perhaps he'd be the only one to really get it. Excuse me while I go and sob now.


End file.
